Psychological Warfare
by Crazy Cravat
Summary: Poppy finds herself in a deadly game of cat and mouse. Will Alastor, her one and only love, find out what's amiss? Will good triumph? Read and Review!
1. Privy to a Plot

Walking along her usual route, Poppy turned around the bend and passed a small little alleyway that she wouldn't ordinarily have taken notice of had there not been the notes of a supremely familiar voice drifting towards her from that very vantage spot. Stopping her stride, she frowned a little and listened for that voice again, spotting two hooded and darkly cloaked men in the aforementioned alleyway, out of the corner of her eye. In the space of the second that it took for her to scrutinize the men, she heard the words "attack" and "Kent" in the same sentence, but barely more than that as the two men were doing a good job of being secretive.  
  
She blinked. There had been suspicions of an attack on Kent. Trouble is definitely afoot. Before she could quietly turn away and remain undetected, as she realized how dangerous it was for her to be in such close proximity to them, one of the men nodded and went away down the alleyway while the other turned and caught sight of her. The air left her lungs and the blood flow to her brain stopped. She now saw who the owner of that familiar voice was and she knew she was in the deepest of troubles at that point.  
  
Aurelius stared at her with a piercing gaze for a few moments, as if quickly thinking and wondering how much she might have heard. A cold, and slick smile appeared on his lips as he moved with casual arrogance towards her. The impulse to run was growing on her, but she knew it would be folly to do so. She would have to play his game, play it cool and casual. As he neared her in almost half a second, she was assaulted by the thought once again that this slime was Alastor's brother. It was amazing. It's been said that siblings are almost always different from each other and it's rare to find those who are alike, but somehow it took on a new meaning when she faced the brother of the man she loved more than life itself.  
  
"Good day, Poppy. Fancy meeting you here. Out for a stroll, were you?" He asked, his voice light and warm, the exact opposite of his eyes, which were shrewd and calculating. He bowed in his arrogant manner, taking her hand to leave a kiss on it. If she hadn't already endured much of his mind games for the past several years, she would have flinched. As it was, she barely mastered the impulse to cringe with revulsion. She'd had worse from him before, and somehow she knew that this was just the beginning.  
  
Forcing herself to think and be calm, she waited until he released her hand, which he didn't do quickly enough for her comfort. He seemed to let her hand linger in his, to clearly show her that she wouldn't be getting away easily. When he did let go, she slowly and, with much practiced nonchalance, let her hand rest at her side, trying to ignore how much she wished she could wash it clean that moment.  
  
She knew that he was waiting for an answer and she would not be able to escape with being altogether silent. "No, I was heading to work," she told him calmly, wishing for the life of her that she had either taken a different route that day or been quicker at getting away undetected. Stupid girl. You know you're going to pay for this... and the price will indeed be high.  
  
His lips curled into a small smirk. "How are things at work these days?" He asked conversationally, lightly fingering her healer's bag with feigned curiosity. She kept her hands at her sides, forcing herself to keep her expression blank and her voice light. "Fine, thank you." Poppy responded, trying not to let her eyes focus on his hands. She purposefully kept her eyes level with his. "Excellent," he murmured, circling her a little, coming to stand at her side as opposed to facing her. "I know how hard things can be with these attacks, you know."  
  
Standing still and silent, she didn't respond. His smile grew wider as he leered at her. "You know," he commented with the air of a best friend, "it's been a while since I've visited friends." Glancing down, he let his eyes move up and down her frame. She was all too familiar with this. She continued to remain still. She would wait him out as she had always done. He had the upper hand and they both knew it. "I do wonder: how are things going for my little brother?" He asked her with the feigned concern of a sibling.  
  
Her heart beat just a little faster. Cripes... this is bad... Her eyes were beginning to water with the effort at not blinking. Her muscles ached from the strain of trying not to tremble or shake. It took every bit of strength to stand there with quiet composure, to not gasp or gulp or make a false move. She was playing with fire and knew that she would get burned. If not her, someone she loved would. She had to endure; she just had to. She'd brought it upon her self by not leaving that alleyway from the get-go.  
  
Clearly he knew just what he was doing to her, as his smile broadened. Running a finger up and down her arm, that thankfully was covered by her robes and spared her one less touch from him. He leaned in a little closer to her, his breath hot and heavy on her cheek. "Perhaps I'll have to make a few friendly visits before I leave. I've quite missed everyone," he whispered, his lips purposefully close to her ears. Merlin help me... She closed her eyes, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't seen her do so. Quickly she opened her eyes, barely biting the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling or to keep herself from screaming.  
  
He moved away then and stood before her. "Though, I have to admit, time is a precious commodity," he tipped her chin up a little with his forefinger. "I might have to settle for one friendly visit," he told her, his steely eyes boring into hers. She knew what was coming and she knew she would not be able to avoid it. A numbness spread over her, that mercifully spared her from any reaction to his touch.  
  
"I trust you remember where my manor is?" He asked, tracing her jawline down to her neck, leaving his fingers at the base of her throat. "Yes," she responded, knowing full well that he could feel the vibrations of her voice inside her throat as well as her racing pulse. It didn't help that she could hear her heart pounding loudly in her ears. It was giving her quite a headache that was compounded with the fact that she was quite literally at the mercy of this man. Any false move and she could very well be responsible for a death of a loved one if not all her friends.  
  
He didn't smile, but he did look very much like a beast that had just enjoyed toying with it's prey. He bowed and stood upright again. "Good day to you, then. Take care, Poppy," he'd leaned in forward to her, whispering that last part as a taunt before kissing the tip of her ear. He smiled licentiously and with a swish of his cloak, vanished down the alleyway, leaving her standing there, in the hazy sunlight, feeling the most extreme numbness one can ever feel. 


	2. In The Viper's Den

Two evenings later, Poppy took a deep breath before opening her closet and retrieving the parcel that had been sent to her earlier that day. Removing the lid, she withdrew the form-fitting black gown, sleek gloves, and matching black cloak with deep blood-red velvet on the inside. Moving mechanically, she slipped into the gown and wished it had a higher collar, but no, this is what he wanted. It was off the shoulder and slipped into an Empress-style cut for the bodice. Sighing and trying not to think of how she wished it was more modest, she drew her hair back and pinned it up. Slipping into her shoes, she walked out of her bedroom, drawing the cloak on as she went. Needless to say, she was dreading what she was about to do, but she knew she couldn't prolong it any longer. To do so would make things worse.  
  
With such thoughts in her mind, she disapparated from her home and appeared just outside Aurelius' home. It was elegant in a dark sort of way; the likes of which that gave her chills right down to her toes. Taking a deep breath, she moved forward and pulled the doorbell. Waiting patiently, she wondered if, even in the smallest measurement, there was a different route to go.  
  
A moment later, the door opened and there he stood, draped in deep green and black robes that would have flattered him had she not had the deepest loathing for him. "Ah, my dear," he greeted her with a cold smile on his lips, beckoning her inside. "So good of you to come," he took slid the cloak off from her with slow movements before moving to hang it in the closet. As he turned back to her, his eyes gazed upon her admiringly, taking in just how form-fitting the gown truly was. "The dress becomes you, my dear," he kissed her hand, and it would have been a gallant gesture if any other man had done so, but not him. Not with the cold, licentious expression in his eyes.  
  
She knew she couldn't stay silent for much longer. It was not a luxury she had. "You chose it," she responded, waiting for him to release her hand. "That I did," he leered, still holding her hand as he lead her to the dinning table, which just happened to be set quite elaborately with elegant candelabra, crimson red roses, and the finest china. All a part of his game.  
  
Leading her over to the table, he pulled out her chair for her. She sat down gracefully and took in a sharp intake of breath, as he had just placed his hands on the bare skin of her shoulders. He leaned in close to her, "What do you think? I went all out for you."  
  
I know you did. She took a moment to gather her wits about her. Calm and collected... careful where you tread. Poppy, kept herself deliberately still. "It shows," she responded, trying not to focus on the slow, would-be sensuous circles his thumb was making on her skin.  
  
He laughed, truly enjoying the game. Removing his hands from her, he went to his seat and poured the wine for them, handing her goblet over to her. She took it and held it to her lips, pretending to sip. He drank from his and she knew then that it wasn't poisoned, but still, she was taking no chances.  
  
As she pretended to sip still, a nicely-sized serving of filet mignon appeared on her plate and on his. She glanced at him and wished she hadn't. Clearly, he was amused with the fact that she was going to try and get through a full meal without drinking or eating anything. Clenching her teeth, she was in a corner and they both knew it.  
  
Taking a small bite, she found it to be delicious, but she knew she wouldn't be able to eat, yet she knew she couldn't get around it. Taking another bite, she spared a glance at him. He was watching her keenly. So, he's just going to wait me out... Steeling herself, Poppy ate with forced casual nonchalance, determined to wait him out as well. She knew then that dinner would be a quiet affair as he was more diverted with making her as uncomfortable as possible.  
  
A little while later, after he'd eaten and she'd made inroads into her food, their plates were vanished. "Well, my dear," he poured a little more wine for the two of them, "it's been a pleasant evening, has it not?" Clenching her teeth was giving her quite a headache. Why can't the evening be over? Poppy maintained her composure. "Yes, pleasant," she lied through her teeth, not daring to close her eyes or even manage a discreet massage of her temple. She would endure the headache, there was nothing for it.  
  
He rose from his seat and moved to tap the wizard phonograph with his wand, smooth jazzy big band music issuing forth, presenting irony when compared to the tense electricity in the air. He moved to her then, sliding his fingers from her shoulder to her hand, which he then took hold of. "May I have this dance?" He asked, but they both knew it wasn't a request but more of a command. She didn't answer. Instead, she made herself rise and follow him to the cleared floor.  
  
Though it became clear to her that she should have verbalized an answer to him. This knowledge was brought forth when he pulled her into his arms, much too close for her own comfort. "I heard about your friend, Rory," he remarked, his eyes cold, his hand not on her shoulder blade as is appropriate for dancing, but low on the small of her back. With his other hand, he gripped her own hand just tight enough for ill comfort. "It's sad really. You must miss him," he taunted quietly, gazing into her eyes.  
  
Poppy followed his steps as he lead her in a slow dance, trying to master herself. Her insides were squirming and she felt, any moment, she would lose whatever dinner she'd managed to force down. She knew she was treading on thin ice and knew that she was so deep there would be no rescuing her without endangering someone. Why doesn't he just kill me? Poison me. Something... anything!  
  
He moved with her about the room, gliding easily upon the marble floors with her in his arms, moving to the feel and tune of the big band music that Poppy tried to focus on, as a means of staying as distanced as she could. It was getting difficult to do so and she didn't know how much longer she could last without making an even larger mistake.  
  
Aurelius dipped her then, still holding her very closely. "You'd miss Alastor, wouldn't you?" He asked, leering down at her, their faces inches apart. He closed the space between them and brushed his lips across hers briefly, aiming to unsettle her. Breathe... just breathe. She felt her skin crawl, even if she was learning to keep on her toes around him. He was slick and he knew it, too. She'd have to fight fire with fire. "I know you would," he pulled her upright, holding her hand up to kiss her palm. She didn't bat an eyelash, but held her hand as still as possible. The sooner she played along the sooner she could leave. She merely gazed back at him, keeping her expression neutral. It would not do to give him anything more to use against her.  
  
"Well," he smiled his slick smile at her. "It's been a lovely evening, but all good things must come to an end," he took her arm, leading her back to the entry hall to retrieved her cloak from the closet, sliding it onto her after he kissed the back of her neck. He then turned her around and captured her mouth with his, kissing her hungrily with his arms around her waist. Her heart beat faster as she tried not to push him away or upset him, when he pulled away and smiled broadly at her, leaving her with a cold and sick feeling.  
  
He opened the door and guided her to it. "Good evening, Poppy. Take care." He told her with feigned concern and politeness as she walked out it. Without a backward glance, she heard the door close, and within that second, she apparated back to her house, where she made it to her bathroom to wash before screaming loud enough for those in America to hear. 


	3. Making Plans

A/N: Thank you who're reading this and reviewing. However, it is my pleasure to report that this chapter is solely the work of Jestana, as I stated in the preface. *grins* As such, all reviews will be forwarded to her. *salutes*  
  
Acknowledgments:  
  
Jestana: Get ready for the acclaim because you'll soon be getting it, since this is YOUR chapter I'm posting. *winks*  
  
spoiledthoughts: I'm glad you love it so much. Rest assured there will indeed be more, particularly more tingles to come. *grin*  
  
Liz O'Brien: Thank you! Fancy seeing another series of reviews from you! You're one of my best reviews, and one of Jestana's too! We loves you!  
  
Hogwarts Duo: Thanks! There will indeed be more, so stay tuned!  
  
Illusina: Here's an update and I hope you likes.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Alastor studied the report in front of him, looking for any sort of hint as to who had killed Rory Flynn and why. Sighing, he set the report aside and rubbed his eyes. Dropping his hands, he looked at the picture on his desk and noticed with a pang the fact that his picture-self had turned back to the picture-Poppy, who was drawn in on herself and had her back to the picture-Alastor. Occasionally, the picture-Alastor would reach out to the picture-Poppy, but she shrugged him off each time. A lump beginning to form in his throat, he tore his gaze from the picture to see a familiar figure standing in the opening of his cubicle. "Hello, cloak."  
  
"Hi, Min." He smiled faintly up at her. "You ready to go?"  
  
She nodded, her expression sympathetic. "Yes, I am."  
  
"Well, let's go." He rose and put his cloak on before offering his arm to Minerva.  
  
She took it and they exited the Ministry in short order, ducking their heads against the February shower. Neither spoke until they they had reached Jennens' Cafe, checked for danger, and seated themselves in a corner booth wehre they could both remain watchful. After placing their orders, Minerva spoke, "Now, you said something about Albus wanting us to keep an eye on Fernside?"  
  
"I told him about Poppy telling me that she only loves me as a friend," Alastor explained, noting Minerva's reaction to the news before adding. "That she actually loves someone else."  
  
She shook her head. "I can't believe that."  
  
"When I told Stew what Poppy had said, he told me she was lying," Alastor informed her with a shrug.  
  
Minerva nodded. "I quite agree with him."  
  
"Well, Loupe told Stew and I about a dream Fi had been having," Alastor told Minerva, worry for Poppy rising in him as he thought about the dream.  
  
Minerva waited until their food had arrived and the waitress had gone before asking, "Fianna has been having another dream?"  
  
"Yes," Alastor confirmed with a nod after checking his meal for poison. "Essentially, Poppy is walking through a fog and she is being pursued by a figure in a dark cloak."  
  
Minerva remained quiet for a moment, as if waiting for Alastor to say more. When he didn't, she spoke up, "That is it?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes, that's all of the dream."  
  
"Would you say this figure is literal or figurative?" Minerva asked after thinking for a moment.  
  
Alastor swallowed back the worry that gnawed at his insides. "Loupe, Stew, Albus, and I all agree that the figure is literal and that it's someone who knows her well enough to threaten at least myself, and maybe others she cares about."  
  
"So, Albus would like us to keep an eye on Fernside to find out who this person is?" Minerva questioned, wanting to clarify most likely.  
  
He nodded, his worry for Poppy taking his appetite from him. "Exactly."  
  
"Well, how did you wish to handle this, Alastor?" Her voice was matter-of- fact.  
  
He blinked startled. "No need to think it over?"  
  
"None at all, Alastor," she rpelied shaking her head. "Poppy is my friend as well as yours. I am concerned for her as well."  
  
He smiled, relieved. "Thank you, Minerva."  
  
"Really, Alastor, you should know by now that there is no need to thank me," Minerva reminded him with a fond smile.  
  
He chuckled. "Well, I was considering that we keep her house under surveillance from a distance."  
  
"What do you mean by 'from a distance'?" Minerva frowned, looking puzzled.  
  
He leaned forward in his seat, pushing his hardly-touched food to the side. "There is a way to charm objects to transmit pictures of what is going on in one spot to a receptacle of some sort, even if it is a considerable distance away. Kind of like those cameras Muggles use."  
  
"Very well, how do you propose to set it up?" Minerva pushed her plate aside as well.  
  
Alastor waited until the waitress had collected their plates before giving his reply, "Well, Poppy has been working the day shift lately, so I thought we could do it while she's at work."  
  
"You mean now, don't you?" she asked with an amused smile.  
  
Alastor smiled guiltily, feeling his face flush. "Well, yes."  
  
"Very well, we haven't much time," Minerva slid gracefully out of the booth.  
  
Alastor automatically stood as well. "You're serious, Min?"  
  
"Of course I am, Alastor," she answered as he helped her into her cloak.  
  
He slipped on his own cloak and tossed a few coins on the table to pay for their food. "Well, All right, then, let's go."  
  
He offered his arm to Minerva and she took it. "Oh, Alastor?"  
  
"Yes, Min?" he asked as he escorted her from the cafe.  
  
She waited until they were outside before telling him, "Don't call me Min." 


	4. Thickening the Plot

Alastor and Minerva Apparated to Fernside without fanfare. No rain was falling and the sun actually managed to peek through the clouds occasionally. Once there, they circled the cottage to make sure Poppy wasn't there. "All right, then, we need to find a place that will have a good view of the cottage, but won't be obvious."  
  
"Of course," Minerva agreed as they looked around the front yard of Poppy's home.  
  
As he turned in place, Alastor's gaze was caught by a glint of sunlight on metal in one of the trees. Intrigued, he walked over to the tree. "I wonder."  
  
"Alastor?" Minerva asked, watching him go.  
  
Rather than answer, he climbed up the tree and found a wind chime hanging from one of the branches. "That's an odd place for a wind chime."  
  
"Alastor, what did you find?" Minerva called up to him.  
  
Pulling out his wand, he cast a reveal spell on the wind chime. He next disabled the protection spell surrounding the wind chime. Tucking his wand back into his pocket, he carefully unhooked the windchime from the branch and climbed down from the tree. "Take a look."  
  
"What was a wind chime doing in the tree?" Minerva asked, puzzled, as she examined the wind chime. It was rather plain, with several flat stained glass pieces.  
  
Alastor shrugged as Minerva pulled out her own wand and cast a diagnostic spell. "I have no idea, but I have a feeling it was left by whomever is stalking Poppy."  
  
"Alastor, calm down," Minerva told him, barely glancing up from the chime as she cast a reveal spell.  
  
"I'm sorry, Minerva," he apologized, closing his eyes for a moment.  
  
A softly-muttered Muggle curse caused his eyes to fly open. "The bastard."  
  
"Minerva, what is it?" he asked her.  
  
She straightened up and looked him in the eye. "Whoever put this there beat us to keeping an eye on Fernside."  
  
"It does exactly what we're trying to do?" he asked, looking at the wind chime with renewed interest.  
  
She nodded. "Unfortunately, several additional charms make it impossible to change what the images are transmitted to or to even detect where the receptacle is."  
  
"In other words, it's no good to us," Alastor summed up.  
  
She nodded again. "Unfortunately, yes."  
  
"Well, let's take this tool away from whoever put it here," he suggested, setting the wind chime on the ground.  
  
Looking grim, she pointed her wand at the wind chime. "On the count of three?"  
  
"Yes." He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the wind chime as well. "One...two...three!"  
  
"Evanesco!" they chorused. In moments, nothing remained of the wind chime.  
  
He sighed and tucked his wand into his pocket. "I'm not entirely sure that was the only way this person had of keeping track of Poppy's movements."  
  
"Well, it's one way they do not have anymore," Minerva reminded him.  
  
He looked at his watch. "We don't have time to set something up ourselves. We'll have to wait until she leaves for work tomorrow."  
  
"Right." she nodded her agreement.  
  
Without another word, they Disapparated. Moments after they were gone, a dark figure appeared with a quiet 'pop'. He examined the area carefully. "Hmm, seems I underestimated those two. However, I do like a good challenge..."  
  
Back at the Ministry, Alastor escorted Minerva to her cubicle before returning to his own. Sitting down at his desk once more, his eye was caught by the picture once again. The picture-Poppy was standing by herself now, with her back to the others. All of them were concerned, but his picture-self was the closest of all of them, worry clearly evident on his face. Sighing, he pulled the report he'd been reading towards and began to read it once more. 


	5. Shadow on Fernside

Early that morning, Poppy rose to make breakfast for herself before she went to her work at St. Mungo's. After several minutes of deciding, she realized she really wasn't hungry. With that knowledge in mind, she settled for having a slice of coffee cake followed up with a bottle of butterbeer to wake her up. Drinking long and deeply of the drink, she slowly felt some warmth spreading around inside her.  
  
Sighing a little, she set down the bottle just as there was a knock at the door. She paused a moment before she went to the window, peering out of the gauzy curtains to find Aurelius standing just outside in her yard. He smiled that slick smile of his and waved at her in a mock genial manner. Poppy stared back, her heartbeat quick. She knew she couldn't risk staying inside and ignoring him. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and slipped outside.  
  
She moved towards him, all the while wishing she could run far away. Aurelius bowed and took her hand in his, pulling her into his arms when he stood upright once more. "Morning, my dear," he spoke quietly, his lips grazing her cheek. "Did you miss me?" He taunted, kissing her intensely, sliding his hand up and down her back.  
  
She closed her eyes, hoping to block out his face from her mind and instead suffuse it with an image of Alastor. It worked well enough for the moment. She didn't quiver or cringe, for which she was glad of. She needed to be able to combat him in his game.  
  
Pulling away a moment later, he looked down at her with an unreadable expression. He paused, his fingers tracing her jawline. "I noticed big brother visited you the other night," he commented, glancing behind her at her cottage. His eyes flickered back to hers, bright with malice. "Worried for his little sister, is he?" Aurelius inquired, nonchalantly.  
  
How did he know that Stewart visited me? She remained quiet. As if reading her thoughts, Aurelius smiled widely. "I have my own network of spies, you know." He laughed coldly and mirthlessly. "Can't leave little baby bird unwatched now can I?" Aurelius went on to ask rhetorically, fingering the buttons on the collar of her robes, his fingers fluttering over the base of her throat. She remained standing still, determined to undermine him somehow, but not knowing how quite yet. Instead she focused her eyes on his own, determined not to flinch or blink no matter what he did.  
  
"I also know that one Minerva McGonagall visited you yesterday morning," he remarked airily, kissing her throat. "It's a pity I didn't pay my respects to her. As I understand it, her brother was killed, was he not?" Aurelius inquired lazily, his hand on her hip, pulling her a little closer. "By the Fatali, am I correct?" He asked, his eyes coldly intense.  
  
Poppy gazed back steadily, refusing to say a word. He was just toying with her. He was saving the real bite for later, of that much she knew. He merely smirked at her, apparently happy with her response. She suddenly wondered then if that was how she could psyche him out, how she could defeat him. Perhaps if she fed his ego enough, maybe she might be able to turn the tables on him...  
  
He stepped away from her then, gazing around at her cottage and the grounds. "Well, my lovely, it's time I left. You'd best be getting yourself to work or someone might think there is something amiss." He declared, letting his eyes rove back to her. "Can't have that now, can we?" He tilted her chin up with his fingers a little, his eyes staring straight into hers. "No, we can't." She responded automatically, keeping her eyes from wavering or blinking. He smiled a cruel smile, leaning in to kiss her once again, his hands traveling up her frame and just barely grazing her bosom as they went to nestle in her long ashy tawny hair.  
  
Closing her eyes once more she focused deeply on the image of her love in her minds eye, and kissed him back a little, hoping to achieve two things in doing this; one, to catch him off guard and two, mainly to pretend for one moment that this was not happening to her and that she was safe with Alastor, warm in his embrace. However, it was more the first intention, as she figured she might as well play his game.  
  
Aurelius didn't respond at once, being more slick and subtle than she could ever want to be. He slowly wound his hands from her hair, bringing them to rest atop her shoulders. Even more slowly, he pulled away to glance down at her, staring at her intently and giving nothing away in his expression. He removed his hands from her shoulders, but let his fingers barely trace her lips. She barely felt a tremor in her heart, but otherwise managed to stay perfectly still and aloof. He smiled. "Well, it's time I left. Good day, Poppy." He murmured and kissed her hand before turning with a swish of his cloak and vanishing before her eyes.  
  
She stood there a moment and then turned to go back inside, carefully glancing everywhere as she did so, hoping in vain to spot anything out of the ordinary that would indicate how he was able to watch her home and have knowledge of who came and went.  
  
You will get your comeuppance. Rest assured, you will. 


	6. Something to Do

Minerva McGonagall glanced at the clock and sighed. Time to find out what lead Alastor had found. Putting the report she'd been writing in a drawer of her desk, she picked up the group picture. Nothing had changed from the day before, except that her picture-self was standing right by Alastor now. Nodding, she tucked it into the pocket of her robes and pulled her cape on. The rain from the day before was gone, but it was still chilly out. Leaving her cubicle, she made her way to Alastor's, finding him staring at the group picture himself. She coughed slightly to get his attention. He looked up and smiled when he saw her. "Hello, Min."  
  
"Don't call me Min," she answered automatically as he stood up. "Where are we going?"  
  
He pulled his cloak on. "My place. I have some things there that I need to look at."  
  
"Very well." She nodded and waited for him to gather up the stack of parchment on his desk.  
  
Shifting it to one arm, he offered the other one to her and she took it. They left the Ministry and made the trek to his London flat in silence, dodging the puddles left over from yesterday's rain. Reaching his flat, he unarmed the wards that had been protecting it and let her in. After he took her cloak, she moved through the entry and into the living room. "Lumos." The lights flared up to reveal a spartanly furnished room. What little furniture that was present was impersonal. Anyone would have had it in their flat. Shaking her head, Minerva turned to her friend. "Not much, is it?"  
  
"Well, I cannot say much, considering my own flat is rather bare," she admitted.  
  
He gestured to the couch. "Have a seat."  
  
"Thank you." She sat down and watched as he set his stack of parchment on the low table in front of the couch.  
  
"Would you like something to eat or drink?" he asked solicitously.  
  
She thought for a moment. "Some sandwiches and tea would be nice."  
  
"You don't ask for much, do you?" he chuckled as a wave of his wand prompted a plate of sandwiches to appear on the table, along with two cups of tea.  
  
She shrugged as she picked up one of the cups of tea and took a sip. "Well, I know cooking is not your strong point. Not like--"  
  
She stopped speaking, remembering how much he loved Poppy, like she loved-- No, she wouldn't think of him. Not right now. A soft, sad chuckle from Alastor drew her thoughts. "Don't be afraid to say her name in my presence, Minerva."  
  
"Yes, well, shall we move on?" she suggested, struggling to compose herself.  
  
He nodded, understanding in his dark eyes. "Yes, we shall."  
  
"Very well." She leaned forward and picked up a sandwich. "What lead did you find?"  
  
"Well, when I was reading the reports that had been written about Rory's murder yesterday, I found several details that showed up in _all_ of them," he explained as she ate the sandwich, a conjured napkin spread across her lap. He pulled a piece out of the pile on the table and handed it to her before taking a sip of his own tea.  
  
She took the parchment and read it carefully as she finished off her sandwich. "Hmm. That is interesting."  
  
"I know," he agreed after swallowing the bite he'd taken of his own sandwich. "So, I did some research."  
  
He pulled another piece of parchment out of the pile and handed it to her. She read it and her eyes widened. "Anatole Lestrange?"  
  
"Yes, Anatole Lestrange," he confirmed with a nod, wiping his hands on the napkin he'd conjured up for himself. "We'd found a lock of his hair at the murder scene and he hasn't been seen at his house since Rory's murder, so I secured permission to stake it out until he arrives, and then arrest him."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "He most likely won't go quietly, Alastor."  
  
"I know." He took another sip of his tea. "That's why I asked to speak with you."  
  
Catching on, she stated, "You'd like me to help you."  
  
"Yes, Minerva, I would." He fidgeted with his teacup.  
  
She smiled slightly. "You have it, Alastor."  
  
"Thank you, Minerva."  
  
"You're welcome, Alastor." 


	7. Rose Red

As the sunlight spilled through her gauzy curtains, Poppy turned over on her side, not wanting to wake. She lay there for a full ten minutes before she couldn't stand it anymore. Tossing off her blanket, she rose and dressed for the day with mechanical precision, fixing her hair and straightening her robes before descending down to her kitchen to make some sort of breakfast for herself and Stewart, who was still asleep.  
  
As she stood by the kitchen counter, gazing out the window sleepily, she caught sight of something before her front door. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she squinted and spotted a beautiful stained glass vase with a bundle of white roses in it, complete with a little note. She blinked and moved away from the counter, heading to the front door. Stepping outside into the chill air, she retrieved the vase, carrying it gingerly back inside to the living room table.  
  
She picked up the attached letter, intent on figuring out who had given these to her. It couldn't have been, Alastor... could it? No, it couldn't. She opened the envelope and found a photograph of Stewart, waving and grinning in a most daffy manner. She smiled, but still wondered... It's not Stewart either. Why would he send me flowers with a picture of him? He's daft but not egocentric... She continued on this thread, her mind not fully awake as it was particularly early in the morning, when she suddenly noticed something strange about the flowers...  
  
Before her eyes, the white roses began to turn red, blossoming with droplets of dark red liquid everywhere, dripping onto the table. She stared in shock. It wasn't paint. It was blood. The white roses were bleeding. Her brain jammed then, suddenly realizing who had sent her the roses. As it all came together the photograph in her hand began to smoke faintly, also blossoming with blood, which trickled over her hands.  
  
"Evanesco! Scourgify!" She cried, her heart pounding. The flowers and photograph vanished and so too, did the blood on the table... excepting the smears and splotches on her hands. Moving quickly into the kitchen, she conjured up some of her best cleaning solution and disinfectant and went to work on her hands, scrubbing hard and relentlessly to no avail. The blood itself vanished but it had left red splotches on her skin where it had touched.  
  
By then she was shaking, truly shaking. Cleaning off her wand and pocketing it, she dashed out of her house and apparated to the moorland, where she often went to be alone and away from everything. The fog shrouded everything around her in hazy grey shadows, and the cold air chilled her to the bone, perhaps because it was aided by the high winds.  
  
Poppy stood there in the high wind, wanting to wrap an arm around herself to keep even slightly warm, but she refused to let her tainted hand touch any part of her. She kept her hand clenched and at her side, white as ice, bringing out the red splotches in stark contrast. With her other hand, she fingered the pendant about her neck. A beautiful strained glass poppy pendant that had been given to her by Alastor in her youth, on her sixteenth birthday.  
  
As she fingered the beautiful gift, she thought of him, drawing on her memories for warmth and protection. The memory of playing against him in quidditch, where he refused to play as hard as he would ordinarily do, ignoring the captain's words at the time to stop being a gentleman, made her smile just the tiniest bit. She remembered also, when two Slytherins in her year had tampered with her cauldron in potions class, causing her to burn her hands. She remembered how Alastor had been there in the hospital wing to see her, just under two or so hours later, once he'd caught wind of what happened. He'd always been there for her...  
  
I wish he still could be... but I cannot involve him now. I would be the death of him. She didn't sigh and she didn't cry. It was not a luxury she had. She would have to endure and find a way out of this mess, a mess she had created for herself. Rory was dead because of her. No one else would die on account of her folly. Not if she could help it.  
  
As she stood there, she caught the sound of footsteps. She tensed and whirled around, spotting a shadow coming towards her with lazy movements, the dark fog making the figure look even more menacing. Aurelius sidled up to her then, looking more than pleased with himself. Was there no where she could go without his following? Was there no secret she could keep from this man? She felt him take her tainted hand in his. "I see you'd received my little gift," he remarked airily, his voice purposefully light. "Such beautiful hands, but such unbecoming splotches," he commented, gazing with amusement at her hand and the red splotches.  
  
She let him examine her hand, as he was obviously amused with his cruel genius. "Shall I kiss it and make it better?" He smiled coldly and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing each of the splotches individually, with lazy would-be tenderness. Before her eyes, the splotches disappeared after he'd kissed them. She barely blinked, feeling the air leave her lungs.  
  
He smiled widely then. "All better now?" He asked her with feigned concern. It was such a bold faced lie, but Poppy nodded her head anyway. Anything to make him leave. "You know, it's actually quite romantic... my kisses having that effect on you." Aurelius said, moving to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She felt her heart skip a beat. She'd never felt more trapped in her life than in that moment, with his arms around her like that.  
  
"Well, my lovely," he kissed the back of her neck. "I must be going, and if I am not mistaken you have work to be getting along to." He declared, turning her around to kiss her full on the mouth before he turned and left her there alone in the deep haze, the high winds clawing at her skin with cold and vicious fingernails. 


	8. Stakeout

She smiled sadly as she watched her friend sleep for a moment. The guarded look was gone from his face, leaving behind an innocent boy that still lurked under the shell the auror had built up. It was a pity he had never truly been allowed a childhood. Sighing, she lifted the enchanted spyglass to her eye, carefully examining the house they had been watching for the last several days and nights. After a few moments, she lowered the spyglass and drew her dark cloak closer around her to ward off the morning chill. A sound drew her attention back to her companion just as his dark eyes fluttered open. "Good morning, Alastor."  
  
"Good morning, Min," he replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as the guarded look slipped back into place. She wondered if it took him any effort. "Has there been any change?"  
  
She shook her head, ignoring his use of the nickname. "Not yet."  
  
"Would you like to get some sleep?" he asked, sitting up and stretching.  
  
She shook her head again. "No, I'm not tired."  
  
"You will be." He moved to the spot beside her.  
  
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but his eyes were focused on the house. "I suppose you're right."  
  
"Of course I am." Exchanging smiles, Alastor made himself comfortable while Minerva settled down to sleep.  
  
As she waited for sleep to come, she watched her friend. He sat utterly still, his eyes focused on the house in the distance. He was one of the few people she knew who could remain still for long periods of time. She supposed it came from spending hours in the same room as his parents without being allowed to move at all. If he did, he was punished for it. Just as she was beginning to drift off, he moved, snatching up the spyglass and focusing it on the house. "Alastor?"  
  
"Shh," he whispered, not removing the spyglass.  
  
She frowned, sitting up. After several tense moments, he lowered the spyglass and, looking at her, nodded. "He's returned?"  
  
"Yes, he has," he confirmed. "Come on."  
  
Gathering up their equipment, they left the nest they had made for themselves in the woods near Anatole Lestrange's home. The only evidence was the small depression that had served as their campsite. 


	9. Realizations

"Quite a trial, I must say," Minerva commented from her seat beside Alastor.  
  
He smiled faintly, his thoughts mainly on Poppy, who hadn't been herself since Rory died. "I quite agree, Minerva."  
  
"Do either of you mind if I ask a few questions?" Conner asked from where he sat across from them.  
  
Both shook their heads. "Not at all, Conner."  
  
"Ask away," Alaster added, forcibly pushing his thoughts of Poppy away.  
  
Conner consulted a list of questions he'd written down. "Well, first of all, why were you chosen to investigate Rory Flynn's murder?"  
  
"I wasn't chosen, Conner," Alastor answered quietly. "I _asked_ for the assignment."  
  
Conner blinked, apparently surprised. "May I ask why?"  
  
"As a favor to a friend," Alastor told the reporter.  
  
Conner nodded as he wrote that down. All three of them knew without being told which 'friend' Alastor meant. "All right, what set you on Anatole Lestrange's trail in the first place?"  
  
"I noticed several common threads in the course of my research," Alastor explained, running a hand through his hair. "In following them up, Anatole Lestrange was the one to whom all the evidence pointed."  
  
Conner consulted his list of questions again. "Let's see, ah, here we are: did Mr. Lestrange put up much of a fight when you arrested him?"  
  
Alastor and Minerva exchanged looks, considering the question. "I'd say about as much of a fight as usual."  
  
"Yes." Minerva nodded her agreement. "The same as usual, but he was subdued more quickly because the two of us were working together."  
  
Conner glanced from one to the other. "Do you two work together very often?"  
  
Alastor exchanged a glance with Minerva. "Not often, no," he admitted, his eyes on Connor's quill, which was scribbling away on the parchment.  
  
"I see," Conner murmured, squinting a little as he read through his parchment list of questions. He frowned a little. "Why so this time?  
  
"Well, Alastor was free to ask anyone he chose to assist him and he asked me," Minerva replied with a shrug.  
  
Conner looked to Alastor. "What led you to choose Min over other heads?"  
  
Minerva frowned. "Don't call me Min."  
  
"Hush, Min," Alastor grinned at her before addressing Conner's question. "Of all the aurors, she's really the only one who knows what's going on and would understand why I do certain things."  
  
Conner grinned. "In other words, she knows you best."  
  
"Yes, that, too." Alastor grinned back.  
  
Conner frowned a little as he looked over his questions. "If I remember correctly, in the course of the trial, Anatole seemed to slip when Sendrile asked him if he had murdered Rory of his own volition, or on someone else's orders. He mentioned two others: a person named Natrix and someone named Circae."  
  
"Yes, he did," Minerva agreed as Alastor, deep in thought, rose and began to pace the room. "He said something about being told by someone named Natrix to go to Circae, who would tell him where to await his victim, whom Natrix would send to him."  
  
Conner noticed Alastor's pacing, which was becoming very agitated. "Al? Is something wrong?"  
  
"The term Natrix is familiar," Alastor told them, his brow furrowing. "I'm almost certain I've heard it before."  
  
Minerva frowned as she watched Alastor pace. "Perhaps it's someone you know?"  
  
"Perhaps," Alastor agreed absently, and then stopped short. "Of course! How could I be stupid?!"  
  
The other two exchanged concerned glances as Alastor resumed pacing. "Al? What is it?"  
  
"Have you figured out who it is?" Minerva sounded eager.  
  
He waved off their questions, thinking furiously. As he'd moved up in years at Hogwarts, he'd become more aware of what went on around him, particularly within Slytherin. Though he'd never considered himself a true Slytherin, he'd learned how to act like one and had actually managed to pick up some useful information in the process. One such item of information had been the nickname Aurelius had used only among his closest friends: Natrix. Latin for water snake, Alastor was surprised it had taken him this long to figure out who Natrix could be. He turned to the other two, eager to share his discovery, but stopped short as another thought registered: _What if Aurelius is the dark figure in Fianna's dream?_ Deciding to keep this information to himself, he told them, "I have an idea, but I need to do some thinking first."  
  
"Oh." both looked a little disappointed, but Alastor ignored it for the moment. "Very well, then, Alastor, we won't press you. Will we, Conner?"  
  
The reporter glanced from Minerva to Alaster and back again. "No, we won't."  
  
"Do you have any more questions?" Alastor asked as he resumed his pacing.  
  
Conner looked down at the list in his hand. "Er, did you have any doubts regarding the outcome of the trial?"  
  
"Of course not," Alastor answered, waving a hand. "I knew he was guilty right away."  
  
Conner looked at Minerva. "No, I did not."  
  
"Well, that's everything," Conner told them, rolling up the parchment after making a few notes. "Now I need to go write the article."  
  
Alastor had the presence of mind to walk both to the door. "Thank you, Conner, for doing this."  
  
"Not a problem, Al," Conner replied, shaking his friend's hand. "I'm just glad I had the chance to snatch up the assignment."  
  
Minerva nodded as she followed Conner out the door. While he disappeared with a crack, she turned back to her friend. "Alastor, I want you to promise me something."  
  
He blinked, startled. "Promise you what, Min?"  
  
"Promise me you'll take a sleeping potion and go to bed?" she requested, her face and voice earnest.  
  
He blinked, very surprised. "Min, I--"  
  
"No, Alastor," she cut him off. "Promise me. You need sleep right now and I know you won't get any if you don't take a potion."  
  
He sighed. There was no way out of it. "All right. I promise to take a sleeping potion."  
  
"Thank you, Alastor."  
  
"You're welcome, Minerva."  
  
After she'd disappeared with a quiet pop, he headed into his bedroom and began to prepare for bed. 


	10. Daily Prophet Article

Flynn's Murderer Convicted and Sentenced  
  
Yesterday afternoon, at 2:15 PM, the Wizengamot declared Anatole Lestrange guilty of the murder of Rory Flynn, a noted Empathic Healer, committed two weeks ago today. Mr. Flynn was on his way to Kent in answer to a request for his presence when Mr. Lestrange waylaid him and killed him. Theodosia Mellers, a fellow Empathic Healer, confirmed that Mr. Flynn received a letter requesting his presence in Kent. Mr. Lestrange was arrested early Saturday morning by two young, but already noteable, Aurors: Alastor Moody and Minerva McGonagall. Both are from old, respected wizarding families and have worked together before, though not often. Both finished their training with top marks in several areas. Mr. Moody requested to be assigned the Flynn case, for reasons of his own. When he determined that Mr. Lestrange was the murderer, he requested Miss McGonagall's assistance in arresting Mr. Lestrange.  
  
The details of the investigation and arrest are closed to the public, but Mr. Moody did his homework. Sendrile Longhan, the prosecutor, presented the evidence, questioned witnesses, and generally followed up on the work done by Mr. Moody and Miss McGonagall. Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Mr. Albus Dumbledore, sentenced Mr. Lestrange to lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban prison. When asked whether they had doubts regarding the outcome of the trial, Mr. Moody and Miss McGonagall both said they had none at all. "I knew he was guilty right away," stated Mr. Moody in an interview afterwards. After hearing the evidence piled against Mr. Lestrange, this reporter cannot help but agree with Mr. Moody's assessment. It is a pity that not all of the cases are so clear-cut.  
  
Conner Cleas,  
  
Daily Prophet reporter. 


	11. Silent Fury

Clutching the article Conner had written for the Daily Prophet, Poppy sat staring out the window. She was bundled up in her apple afghan, curled up in her wicker chair, watching the setting sun from her vantage point. She'd been sitting there for nearly an hour or more, alternately shaking and staying perfectly still.  
  
She couldn't fault Conner. No, she couldn't. He was just being kind, concerned. It was only natural that he'd personally deliver the copy of the newspaper to her. He knew she and Rory had been close friends. He'd also wanted to ask why she and Alastor were no longer speaking. She of course had thanked him for coming to bring her the newspaper. She was of course grateful for his concern, his friendship. However, she had told him firmly it was a matter between herself and Alastor, and that if he wanted to ask Alastor, he could do so, but she'd not say a word.  
  
It had taken effort to make him leave, to not be terse with him. She had wanted to scream, to tell him and everyone else the truth. She wanted to run headlong into Alastor's arms and apologize for her lie, for misleading him. That she could never love another but him. She wanted to stay safe in his embrace forever, to look back on this and laugh with him.  
  
She knew however, she would never laugh. She wouldn't involve him and she would protect him from this. He had no idea that Rory had been killed because of her. He had no idea that his brother had been the one to orchestrate the whole thing. It was best that he didn't know. The less he knew the better. The information alone would kill him. He'd see the blood on her hands and he would die because of it. What did it matter if Alastor was his own brother? Aurelius had no qualms with murder. Family or no, Alastor would die. His blood would be on her hands also...  
  
Crying silent tears, she tore the article to shreds, the paper cutting the tip of her finger as she did so. A few droplets of blood slipped onto the newspaper prices. Blood... so much blood. She stared at the cut on her hand, shaking still, the tears slipping from her eyes. Deep red, like a rose. Like the roses that Aurelius had arranged on the table when they'd had dinner. Blood red, they were. Like the red of the dress he'd had her wear. It sickened her.  
  
Vanishing the scraps of paper, she made to clean the wound. Within moments it was gone, but she knew it had been there. Just like the splotches that had been on her hand a day before. Holding up her hand, she saw nothing. Just smooth pale porcelain skin, but the splotches were still there. She could see them. They were there still. Tracing the areas where they had been, she managed to stop her tears. She even managed to stop shaking.  
  
There was no prolonging it. She rose from her wicker chair and donned her wear for the evening. This time he'd sent her a gown of the deepest emerald green, with black lining and a cloak to match. He'd even sent shoes. Everything was his. He was shaping her. She was no longer herself. This was what he wanted. She stared vacantly into her mirror as she pinned her hair in place. The ensemble was a far cry from her trademark greys and teals. That of course was the intention.  
  
Turning away from her mirror, she disapparated and appeared before Aurelius home. She knocked on the door and waited, quite used to it by now. She knew perfectly well he was watching her all the time and knew whenever she arrived, but he seemed to like to make her wait. To demonstrate his dominance. It was a game of chess, and he would always be several paces ahead.  
  
The door opened and he wasn't wearing that slick smile of his for once. He was smiling, but it was a cold and hard smile. Granted, ever since she'd spotted him and his cohort in that alleyway nearly a week or more ago, nothing that followed had been right, but somehow, she knew things had just hit a low.  
  
He leaned against the door, letting his eyes slide up and down her frame. She waited. His expression didn't change, but he gestured her inside. She stepped inside, but didn't move further into the house. She was waiting for him to speak. He closed the door, turning to face her slowly. He offered his arm to her, but he still didn't speak a word. Her heart hammered within her. Granted, she truly loathed him when he spoke, everything he said a veiled threat or hint of his power. However, she feared his silence more. It left much to her imagination and only served to heighten her wary anxiety, which was indeed his intent. She knew that now.  
  
Aurelius led her not into the dining room as he had the other times, but led her down a corridor and into a dimly lit room. Letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting, she saw it was more of a library, a study. There were two chairs, upholstered in deep green and black fabric, a small and efficient writing desk, bookshelf, fireplace, and several daggers and a sword in display cases interspersed through the room.  
  
Turning to her then, he put his hands on her shoulder and forced her down into one of the seats, his hands sliding down her bodice. She sat as straight and still as she could, forcing herself to look up back into his eyes. He stared coldly down at her, his arms behind his back. "It's regretful really, but my dear friend, Anatole, was unable to grace us with his presence this evening," he began without preamble, lifting a hand to run his hand through his hair, not out of a need to fix his hair, for it had been quite fine before, but more to feign nonchalance.  
  
Poppy waited, wondering what he was getting at. She had an idea what it might be. She had, after all, read Conner's article. However, she waited still. He looked at her again, tapping one foot just barely. "It seems he's on his way to Azkaban and therefore, could not be here tonight or any other night for the matter," he went on, his eyes boring into hers.  
  
It was becoming clear where this was headed. She had heard him and this Anatole plotting, and now Anatole had been caught and sent to Azkaban. As the only one who knew anything, who knew they'd been plotting something and knew who had killed Rory, naturally the blame fell on her. Who else could have tipped them off but she? She was the only one who knew who the guilty parties were, after all. So logical and so very wrong. She had told no one.  
  
"Now," he paused, "how do you think this came about?" He asked, his voice cold. She was sick and tired of his games. She knew he was watching and listening for her every move. She knew this. Yet, he was still making it out as if she had been the one to give his cohort away. "You're the one watching my every move. You tell me." She responded, knowing full well she'd pay for her insolence. For a full minute or two, they both merely stared at each other. He didn't move and neither did she.  
  
Then, in half a second she was out of her chair and on the floor, crumpled in a heap. She hadn't physically seen it coming. He'd moved his wand like a sword across her chest, the force of the hex sending her from the chair. He'd used a wand, but it felt like someone had taken what muggles knew as a branding iron across her torso. She wrapped her arms around herself, her breath coming in gasps, causing her eyes to water and her throat to feel as though she'd swallowed glass. Her throat was on fire.  
  
In the next moment, quicker than quick, he'd pulled her upright. She was blinded by the pain. She was consumed by fire, tears streaming from her eyes. "That really was," he said, his voice full of hatred and malice, "the wrong answer." Gripping her by the neck, making it next to impossible to breathe, he literally lifted her from the floor to stand before him. Backing her up against the wall, right beside the display of a particularly sharp Egyptian dagger, he leaned in close to her.  
  
"Just so you know," he released his pressure on her neck, "I was holding back." Aurelius moved his hand from her neck to her torso, kissing the corner of her mouth. "That was child's play," he whispered, his hand pressing down hard on her. She gasped, coughing, the pain in her chest and throat reaching a fever pitch.  
  
Blackness was upon her, and she almost slumped when she felt him kiss her hard on the mouth, his lips working hers. It was deja vu. A moment later and the fire was gone. She could breathe, but she did still feel a dull throbbing in her chest and felt a little sting on her skin, where she was sure she would find a remnant wound later. Aurelius pulled away then, finally smiling that cold, slick smile of his.  
  
He took her arm and led her back out through the corridor, to the front door. He opened it, moving with her to the threshold. "Constant vigilance, my dear," he taunted, leaning in to kiss her again. He let his lips slide over hers for a moment before he bit her, just light enough to startle her and not hurt her deeply. He laughed and shut the door in her face as she stood there for a moment, completely disoriented, the dull pain on her torso intensifying, and the metallic taste of blood in her mouth.  
  
How she made it home without splinching herself, she knew not. All she knew was that she saw darkness, and then she saw light. The light of the moon through her gauzy curtains. The light of the moon spilling into her room, across her bed where she threw herself down, after changing into her comfortable flannel pajamas, heedless of the pain as sleep quickly consumed her. 


	12. The Stench of Evil

Had it really happened? Had she actually told her brother, Stewart, and Alastor the truth four days ago? Had Alastor come to see her with Minerva? Had they really planned to undermine Aurelius? Had Alastor really held her in his arms, consoling her, reassuring her that things would somehow be righted, that he loved her still, always and forever? Could it have been a dream manifested from her deepest longings?  
  
She glanced at the group photograph that sat in a place of prominence atop her desk, in that small and cozy office of hers on the fourth floor within St. Mungo's. She stared at the picture, pretty much sure now that everything had indeed happened, as her photographic self had moved back towards the group somewhat, even if she looked pale and jittery still. She also noticed Alastor was standing almost directly behind her in the photograph. Poppy traced their two figures, a tiny smile on her face.  
  
However, as she thought of the plan, she bit her lip and frowned a little. She was still very uneasy about it. There were so many things that could go wrong and she didn't want her friends put in such danger on her account. In her mind, there were so many holes in the plan that it looked ready to fold over like Swiss cheese.  
  
She shook her head, refusing to think on it at the moment. She would go about her work and leave matters until she returned home. Nodding to herself, she went to her desk and picked up the files on the patients in her wards, checking to see if there had been any signs of improvement in their reports. Scanning down the parchment sheets, she pursed her lips and rested her cheek against her hand, her arm propped up on her desk.  
  
There was a knock at her door then. "Come in," she called, not lifting her eyes from the pages before her. The door opened and closed. No words of greeting were said, causing Poppy to frown and glance up from her reading. She lifted her eyes to find a strange man standing just inside her room. He had the most vivid green eyes she'd ever seen, sleek ravens colored hair, and very angular features.  
  
"Can I help you?" She asked, setting the files on her desk before she got to her feet. The man smiled and moved further in the room, his eyes never leaving hers. Poppy stood quietly, resisting the impulse to frown even in the slightest. She felt like she knew him from somewhere, but she'd never seen him before. There was something about him... something so very familiar to her.  
  
He stood straight and tall, the posture one of arrogance. She knew that posture. "Good day, Poppy. Busy day? How are things at Fernside?" He asked, a lazy smile on his face, as he spoke in a very rich Irish accent. Poppy stared at him. Who was this man? Why was he so familiar to her? She sensed so many things about him, resonances that didn't quite register in her mind.  
  
The room was suddenly deadly quiet, as if someone had shut off all manner of sound. "Excuse me?" She breathed, her mouth suddenly very dry. He laughed, pivoting to move to her desk, spotting the group photograph on her desk. As he did that, as he picked up the frame in his hands, she got that deja vu feeling. That was the same way...  
  
"Aurelius..." she gasped, backing away unconsciously, knocking into her chair as she did so. He laughed again, his voice still musical. "You're a sharp one aren't you? I admit I underestimated you. What gave me away?" He asked genially, leaning his weight on one leg.  
  
She wasn't about to bring attention to her Empathic abilities, even if he might know that already, she wouldn't be bringing it up. "The way you moved," was all she could think to say, knowing it was only partly true. He nodded thoughtfully, pursing his lips. "Then you're more observant than I thought, Poppy. I'm flattered." He stared back at her arrogantly, those green eyes that were not his, flashing.  
  
He moved toward her then, and as she'd already moved back as far as she could go without bumping into her bookshelf, she stayed where she was. "A colleague of mine allowed me the use of his appearance and his voice for the day. Polyjuice works wonders, you know." He commented, leaning in close to taste the sweet nectar of her lips. He sighed, kissing her temple, inhaling her scent. "How is it that you always smell of apples and apricots?" He asked silkily, tracing the line of her jaw.  
  
Funny, she thought she was bathed in the stench of fear. It coated her, permeating her skin to course deep within her, like a disease. However, she kept herself as still and as patient as she could. It was killing her. He knew it, too. "How was that visit with my brother? Come to kiss and make up from your lover's quarrel?" He inquired, that Irish accent he'd borrowed taking on a flinty edge.  
  
The heat rose from within her. If she weren't so worried about what he could do to those she loved, she'd have longed to give him a what for. For the pain he'd caused not only her, but also Alastor. Making it impossible for them to be together. For turning her own home and precious objects against her. She thought of the charm he'd placed on her necklace, the poppy flower pendant that Alastor had given to her on her sixteenth birthday. She thought of how he'd managed to use such a precious gift against her, robbing her of privacy and security and tarnishing the gift with his touch and foul intentions.  
  
However, for the moment she made no comment and continued to focus her eyes steadily on his, giving away nothing. "What is it that you want from me? I've told no one. I didn't even hear anything in the first place, that day in the alley. If you hadn't had killed Rory, if you'd just left me alone, you'd have nothing to worry about, nothing to fear. I'd have had nothing to tell." Poppy spoke, surprised by the calmness in her voice, and surprised that she'd even asked. She'd probably just signed away the lives of her friends in that direct confrontation.  
  
Aurelius paused, considering her question. He even tilted his head back, musing to himself. "Well, for one my dear, I couldn't have known how much you'd heard and secondly," he leaned in close, whispering into her ear, "did I even need a reason? You should know by now, my dear, that I do so adore my little games and frankly, you've intrigued me for years. That day in the alley, a perfect opportunity was handed to me. You were handed to me on a silver platter. Who am I to refuse such an offer?" He appealed to her, kissing the tips of her ears, his lips moving along the line of her jaw to her neck. "I hardly need mention that when you were handed to me, so was my brother and all your annoyingly good friends." He added, as an afterthought.  
  
She felt the bile rise in her throat, but pushed it back down. How could he do that? With such candor say such things to her? Do the things he did? How is it that some people could have no conscience, no remorse, no humanity? She couldn't comprehend such evil, such depravity. A wave of nausea assaulted her again. It was churning within her. Soon that nausea, combined with the lightheaded dizziness she felt, was going to cause her to faint.  
  
There was a knock at the door then, bringing her back to her senses and alertness. Aurelius moved with such celerity, to stand by her desk, calm and composed, if you please. There was another knock. Poppy blinked, shifting her eyes from the door to him. He smiled a Cheshire cat smile. "Poppy, open the door. Such poor hospitality. Quite rude, if you ask me." He chastised her, that Irish accent musical once more. She stood where she was, wondering if there was some way out of this, perhaps if she...  
  
It was too late, the door swung open and her fellow Empathic healer, Theodosia, stepped inside smiling. "So you're here, old girl. I was beginning to think you weren't in your office-" she stopped short, her eyes flickering from Poppy to Aurelius. "Have I interrupted something?" She asked, apologetically. "No, hardly," Poppy managed to respond, her heart beating quicker than quick. She grasped her hands behind her, so that none would notice the slight tremble in them.  
  
"Poppy, is this a friend of yours?" Theodosia asked with polite curiosity, her eyes on Aurelius, holding her clipboard at her side. Aurelius simply smiled and stared back at her, his eyes moving up her petite frame, taking in her blue eyes and chestnut brown hair, which was kept short and bobbed. "Yes, an old friend. I'm Chandler Jennings, and you are?" He cut in smoothly, extending his hand. She extended hers and shook his hand, "My name is Theodosia Mellers, and I'm pleased to meet you."  
  
Poppy watched this exchange, her heart sinking. Aurelius smiled a wide smile, his eyes flickering to hers. "I won't keep you two, then, but I just wanted to drop off this file and memo from the Senior Healer. We'll talk later, have a good day," Theodosia explained, handing Poppy the file. "Pleasure to meet you, Chandler." She said over her shoulder as she moved to the door. "Yes, a pleasure," he responded, watching her leave.  
  
Aurelius turned to her then, grinning. "She was a pleasant sort, really lovely," he remarked, emphasizing the last word in particular. "I assume she was close to you and Rory?" He inquired, moving to her once again. Poppy didn't answer. His grin grew. "I asked you a question, an answer would be nice." He told her, that flinty edge to the accent returning as he put his hand on her, tearing off her white apron that went over her green robes, all in one fluid motion and quicker than the blink of an eye. She flinched, as if he'd struck her. "Yes," she breathed, feeling naked and exposed, even though she was still quite fully dressed.  
  
"I thought as much," he murmured, fingering the collar of her robes. "As pleasant as this has been, I must take my leave. I've several things I must attend to. However, I want to request your presence for dinner, tomorrow evening." Aurelius declared, both of them knowing that it was definitely not a request. He moved in, kissing her hungrily, his arms enveloping her. "I'll be seeing you, Poppy," he whispered before he turned and left the room, leaving her alone in the room bathed in the stench of evil he'd left behind. 


	13. Finale

Minerva had never liked the taste of polyjuice potion. Nor did she like how the change it induced felt, but it was a necessary evil in this case. Something to be endured, no more. Once the writhing of her insides had faded, she looked into the mirror and saw Poppy staring back at her, wearing the dress Aurelius had sent earlier that day. "Well, that is a good thing." The voice that emerged was Poppy's. "At least the dress fits now."  
  
"Min, come out and let me see," Alastor called through the bedroom door. Minerva opened the door to see Alastor waiting for her. He took in her appearance and nodded. "Just like Poppy, except for one thing."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "What is that?"  
  
"This." He held up a poppy necklace. "Poppy always wears it."  
  
She nodded, remembering when Alastor had given it to Poppy. "Of course."  
  
"May I?" he asked, gesturing with the necklace. She nodded again and turned her back to him. He fastened it around her neck and resisting the urge to let his hands rest on her bare shoulders for a moment. She wasn't Poppy, even if she looked it. "I put an eavesdropping charm on it again, only it's transmitting to Stew, Griff, and I instead of Aurelius. Stew will be near the back door of the Viper's Den, I'll be near the front door, and Griff will be near the basement doors. We'll all be Disillusioned. If you need help, just say phoenix, all right?"  
  
She nodded a third time, feeling as if butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. "Yes, Alastor."  
  
"One more thing," he held her in place. "Poppy isn't as 'stiff' as you are, try to relax a little."  
  
"Right, of course." Minerva took a deep breath and Alastor released her shoulders. At least Poppy was safe at Fianna's cottage with Fianna, Loupe, and Rremly. Alastor and Minerva had both thought it best that Poppy not remain at her home that evening. Since Fianna had been dreaming about this all the while, dreaming about a dark figure haunting her friend's every step, it had not been difficult to situate Poppy at her cottage. They'd been lucky in not having to explain everything.  
  
Alastor helped her into the cloak that matched the dress, this time a deep blood red, and kissed her forehead. Tapping the top of his head with his wand, he completely blended in with his surroundings, within moments, and Minerva could only see him if she watched for movement. "I'll see you." With a soft 'pop', she knew he was gone.  
  
Taking another deep breath, Minerva apparated to the Viper's Den. It was as darkly impressive as she remembered. Reaching into her pocket to assure herself that the vial of extra polyjuice potion was secure in her pocket, Minerva stepped forward and rang the doorbell. After only a short wait, the door opened to reveal Aurelius Moody, a cold smirk on his face. "You've returned to me. I presume then that my dear little brother was not successful in winning you back? I'm quite flattered." Minerva bit her tongue, knowing Poppy would have kept silent rather than dare antagonize Aurelius and, thus, risk her friends' lives. He beckoned her inside and she allowed him to slip the cloak from her, his fingers grazing the bared skin of her shoulders. She fought down a shudder of revulsion, wishing the dress was more modest. When he had hung the cloak in the closet, he turned back to admire how the dress fit. She struggled with the urge to fold her arms over her chest. "Ah, my dear, you are quite lovely." He took one of her hands and kissed the back of it. "It's a pity it's wasted on my dear little brother."  
  
He might as well have called his brother worthless, with the way his tone changed at the end of that statement, Minerva thought as he led her into the dining room. The candles were lit in the candelabra, blood red roses arranged around the table, which was complete with goblets of wine. So far, so good. This is exactly what she described their first evening to be like.  
  
He held her chair out for her, leaning in close to her when she'd seated herself, his lips close to her ear, "I'm glad I was able to stop by and see your place of work, not to mention meeting your co-workers. That Theodosia," he let the name linger on his lips for a moment, as if tasting it, "is quite lovely."  
  
Minerva already knew of his having visited Poppy, as she'd tried vehemently to dissuade them from their plan, fearing that he'd see right through the Polyjuice as he'd used it himself. However, Alastor and Minerva had been adamant, they'd continue with the plan. He may have used it, but he'd certainly not expect for them to use it, particularly after Aurelius' visit to Poppy where he'd admitted to using it. It'd be too obvious, and therefore sure to be overlooked by Aurelius, Alastor pointed out.  
  
Now however, Minerva kept her expression neutral as she sat down, drawing in her breath with a hiss as his hands grazed her shoulders once more. "Indeed, I am glad you enjoyed your visit." She responded, the words heavy on her tongue, heavy with the tongue lashing she sorely wished she could unleash upon him. Aurelius glanced at her long and hard before moving around the table to his own seat. Minerva then realized she ought to have stayed silent. How had Poppy managed this? Had she simply refused to speak throughout the whole affair?  
  
The dinner was almost exactly like the one Poppy had described, the only difference being the fact that Minerva managed to sneak a sip of the polyjuice potion before her time was up. When Aurelius had finished, the plates vanished, leaving behind the wine. Minerva had taken no more than a few tiny sips, preferring to have a clear head. "Such a lovely evening with likewise company. Pleasant wouldn't you agree?"  
  
She took a moment to answer, recalling Poppy's mannerisms as best she could. "Yes, pleasant." Rather than tap the wizarding phonograph with his wand as she expected, he took her by the hand and began to lead her from the room. She resisted. "Where are we going?" Minerva asked him, keeping her feet rooted, not moving along with him. "You'll see," he told her, tugging painfully at her arm. "It's a surprise."  
  
With a powerful yank, he managed to overcome her resistance and she had no choice except to stumble along behind him. I don't like this at all. They descended into the basement and Minerva stifled a gasp of horror. He intended to keep her prisoner. It's now or never, I can't let him do this. Whipping out her wand, she fired a Banishing Charm at him. The charm caught him by surprise, but he recovered in time to duck the Stunning Spell she sent his way. A short, but intense, duel followed. "Give it up, Aurelius."  
  
"You're not Poppy." It was more of a statement than a question. "She doesn't fight."  
  
She sneered, even as they continued to duel. "Well, you managed to figure that out at least."  
  
"Who are you, then?" he asked conversationally as he ducked another Disarming spell. "Fianna? Minerva? Stewart? Certainly not the werewolf, Rremly. Perhaps, my darling brother?"  
  
She arched a sardonic eyebrow. "Do you really think I would give that away?"  
  
"No, you wouldn't," he mused, dodging another Stunning Spell. "Really, couldn't you be more creative?"  
  
She barely managed to cast a Shield Charm in time to protect herself from a jet of flame. "Oh, I can, but why should I waste that creativity on a bastard like you?"  
  
"My, my, such language." His Blasting Charm caught her full in the chest, slamming her into the wall behind her. "Well, as amusing as this has been, I can see that it would be wise to depart." He gave a deep, mocking bow as she struggled to her feet. "Until we meet again, whomever you are."  
  
Before she could cast an Anti-Apparation Jinx, Aurelius had disappeared with a loud crack. Wincing, she made her way up to the entrance hall of the Viper's Den, anxious to get away. Grabbing the cloak from the hall closet, she pulled it around herself as she left the building. She felt rather than saw Alastor assist her with the cloak. "Thank you, Alastor."  
  
"You're welcome, Minerva." He replied sounding worried. "Are you all right?" She waved off his concern as she drew the cloak tight around herself. "I'm fine, Alastor. He just caught me by surprise."  
  
"Right," Stewart's skeptical voice sounded from somewhere to the right. "We'd better get moving. There's no telling where that bastard is now."  
  
"I'm with Stewart," Griffith's voice sounded then, "he could be anywhere."  
  
Minerva nodded and, mustering her strength, apparated to Fernside. Even as Poppy's home materialized around her, she felt the polyjuice potion's effect wearing off. Making a noise of frustration, she Transfigured the dress into something more modest and watched as Alastor and Stewart appeared in front of her, both looking worried, Griffith not far behind them. "I'm getting Poppy."  
  
"Alastor, no." She didn't want Poppy fussing over her, but her protest was too late. He'd already tossed some Floo powder on the fire and stuck his head into it. She could hear his voice, but couldn't make out what he was saying. By the time he withdrew and stood up, Poppy had appeared with a crack. "Really, there is no need to fuss."  
  
Ignoring her friend's protests, Poppy herded Minerva over to the chaise and had her sit down. "The least I can do is make sure there's no lasting damage." She said firmly, with a level gaze aimed at Minerva.  
  
"Poppy, I can take care of myself," Minerva objected as Poppy cast a Diagnostic charm. "Really, there's no need--"  
  
"You've just returned from the serpent's pit and you tell me there's no need? Minerva, do kindly sit back and deal with a friend's concern, as you should know what it's like. If not for your concern for me, you'd not even have had to see the likes of that place." Poppy cut in, her voice tinged with a bit of anger and pain, aimed more at the situation rather than at Minerva.  
  
Minerva sighed, conceding that there was no point in arguing with Poppy. It was over quickly enough, in any case. "It seems you'll just be a little sore from that Blasting Charm. I have something for that," Poppy murmured, looking pleased there had been no real and lasting damage. She conjured up a little tin of creme, handing it to Minerva. "Now, I must know, he escaped didn't he?"  
  
"Yes, unfortunately, he did," Minerva replied, setting the tin in her lap so she could remove the necklace and offer it to Poppy. "I believe this is yours?"  
  
Poppy frowned at the thought of Aurelius' escape, but accepted the necklace with a grateful smile, even if there was a slight tremble in her hand. "Thank you, Minerva."  
  
"You're welcome, Poppy," Minerva replied, watching as Alastor wordlessly took the necklace, ended the Eavesdropping Charm on it, and fastened it around Poppy's neck.  
  
He rested his hands on Poppy's shoulders when he finished and she unconsciously leaned into him. A lump forming in her throat, Minerva looked down at the tin in her lap. She was glad her friends were together at last, but the sight of them together made her long for the same closeness, with one who was far away at the moment. "That was quite a duel there, Min," Griffith commented, breaking the silence.  
  
"Don't call me Min," she answered automatically, struggling to regain her composure.  
  
Alastor chuckled softly. "Min, we need to report that we know for certain who 'Natrix' is."  
  
"Alastor, I told you not to call me that," Minerva answered sharply, carefully rising to her feet.  
  
One arm sliding around Poppy's waist from behind, he wagged a finger at her. "And you need to give that a rest."  
  
"Must you go?" Poppy asked, turning in Alastor's embrace to look up at him.  
  
He nodded, resting his forehead against hers. "Yes, Poppy, we must."  
  
Poppy nodded reluctantly, apparently steeling herself for quite the restless night's sleep. Her gray eyes were tinged with worry. "How do we know that he won't come back from wherever he'd disappeared off to? How do we know he won't k-harm any of you, or the others?" She asked, her voice heavy.  
  
It was Griffith who spoke then. He gave Poppy a sad sort of smile. "Trouble is we don't, and we can guarantee nothing. We'll be fine, but if you wish, I can tell everyone else to be on the alert and perhaps perform a ward or two on their residences?" He offered, hoping to assuage her worry.  
  
"Aye, and I can also have our friend Bella come here and stay the night to keep an eye on things if you wish," Stewart chimed in, "Though, I'll be staying here in any case, as someone has to lull you to sleep with 'God Save The Queen' you know."  
  
Barely smiling the smallest of smiles, Poppy nodded assent. "I thank you, all of you for your help. 'Constant Vigilance,' all right?" she responded.  
  
"Of course, Poppy," Alastor assured her with a chuckle. "I'll come by in the morning before I go to work."  
  
Her smile brightening slightly, she tilted her chin up slightly to kiss him softly and whisper something Minerva couldn't hear. He whispered something back and looked at the others. "Shall we go?"  
  
"Yes." Minerva rose easily to her feet and walked over to her friend. "Do not worry, Poppy. We can take care of ourselves, all of us."  
  
Poppy hugged Minerva tightly. "I'll still worry, and you know it, Minerva McGonagall."  
  
"I would be surprised if you did not, Poppy." Minerva hugged her friend back and, looking at Alastor, nodded. He nodded back and they had apparated from Fernside with simultaneous pops. They took care of business at the Ministry and Alastor saw Minerva to her flat. "Take care, Minerva. Thank you for your help."  
  
"There is no need for that, Alastor," she answered firmly. "I wanted to help."  
  
"I know." He kissed her forehead and she slipped into her flat. Sighing, she cast protective wards and made her way to the bedroom to begin getting ready for bed. It had been a long evening, but well worth the effort to make sure Aurelius Moody would not be bothering Poppy, or anyone, for a long time. 


	14. Just The Beginning

Poppy sat out in her garden, the sun just barely glinting through the clouds and the breeze chill but soft. She paused, glancing at the painting she was working on, leaning away from the easel to take in the painting from different angles. She lifted her paintbrush to the canvas once more, putting on the finishing touches to the painting, before pronouncing herself satisfied. Setting down her brush, she glanced again at the painting. Rory stared back at her from the canvas, his vivid hazel grey eyes fixed on hers. His rich sable colored hair was as tidy and lush as it was in life. His soft but angular features gave him the look of being quietly serene, his lips curling just barely into a smile, the very same smile he had always spared for Poppy. Sighing, she tidied up and gathered everything and carried it inside, setting the painting in the upstairs gallery.  
  
After seeing to various tasks about the cottage, she found herself standing in her kitchen again, leaning just barely against the counter. With her gaze directed out the window to the hazy day, she tried to remind herself that she would be all right. She reminded herself that she'd had Albus come to Fernside the just a few days ago to help her with warding her property, with protection spells, anything and everything that would grant her some semblance of security. Between the two of them, and Alastor too, they'd pretty much covered the bases.  
  
She'd also spoken to her friend Bella, who taught all forms of defense classes at the Academy for Magical Defense and Law Enforcement. Bella had contributed to the effort as well, putting up some more personal and less generic spells and enchantments, adding a mirror to the wall by the front door that would reveal the presence of anyone within a two hundred yard radius of the cottage when asked.  
  
Poppy checked the mirror now, out of compulsion. She scanned the grounds, satisfied when she saw that she was quite alone. Moving back her bedroom, she set to work locating all the things that Aurelius had ever sent her. She found the gowns, the cloaks, and the shoes. Taking up the pile, Poppy made her way back down the stairs to the backdoor where she went outside to conjure a large fire pit. Tossing the bundle inside it, she barked, "Incendio!"  
  
She stood back then, watching as the flames consumed the bundle, turning it black and eating away at the fibers. She may have been standing near enough to be warmed by the fire, but all she felt was coldness as she watched the bundle slowly become ash. She could almost picture him there, in the fire. She could see his face, his cold eyes and slick smile. He was laughing at her. She knew why. He would not be so easily caught and defeated. He would not be so easily thrown into the fire.  
  
Staring back into his eyes, she felt the anger she'd long held back coursing through her. "You will be defeated. If not by me, you will be taken down." Poppy told the flaming image, speaking in her mind rather than verbally. He laughed again, his eyes suffused with the light from the fire. "You do amuse me. Haven't you realized by now that you'll never be rid of me? You are mine and I am yours." His lips curled into that licentious smile of his, holding out a flame wreathed arm to her. She felt her heart skip a beat. Even now, he still had a hold on her. "I belong to no one." She clenched her teeth, the headache growing.  
  
He shook his head, clearly amused still. He smiled and stepped from the fire pit, moving closer to her, holding out his hand to her still. "You'll not be rid of me that easy. I will haunt your steps. Every step you take and every friend you make, will be made known to me." Aurelius explained, standing before her, the fire hot on her face. She longed to rip his heart out with her bare hand. "It's over." Poppy stated, the pain in her head pounding. He laughed, throwing his arms out. "No. This is just the beginning." He turned his eyes back to her, growing fiery wings, the flames blazing higher and brighter.  
  
That was enough. He would not be getting to her again. She withdrew her wand, pointing it at the fire pit, and him as he was standing before it. "Get thee gone! EVANESCO!" She cried, vanishing the fire pit and the fiery phantom. In the split second that it took for the fire to vanish, he laughed again, making the pain in her head unbearable for a minute before he vanished.  
  
Dropping to her knees, she stared at the spot that he'd stood, at least where he'd stood in her mind. The grass was still green and untouched, but in her eyes, she could see a large portion of it had burned and turned black. She ran her hand over the grass, lifting her fingers to her eyes. She knew they were clean and there was nothing there, but her eyes saw black ash on her fingertips. Ashes to ashes... dust to dust...  
  
That was it. She was losing her mind. She wasn't going to let him take that from her. Standing and dusting herself off, she went back inside dressing as quickly as she could. Donning her cloak, she disapparated from her cottage to the Academy, making her way inside to the fourth floor. Briskly, she found room 416 and entered inside to find Bella tidying up after her latest class. Smoothing out her black practice robes, the golden haired, blue eyed, tall and lanky Bella glanced over to Poppy in slight surprise.  
  
"Poppy? To what do I owe this honor?" Bella asked, her lips curling into her trademark smirk, as she brushed back her lose hair into a barrette. Poppy moved further inside, giving her a level gaze. "I've come to ask a favor of you," Poppy told her, her voice surprisingly calm and clear. The golden haired witch, lifted her eyebrows, clearly surprised but interested. "A favor of me?" She asked, gesturing towards her office. Poppy followed her lead. "Yes, a favor. I wish you to teach me defense. Everything you know or feel would be beneficial to me." She told her pugnacious friend.  
  
Bella spared her a glance, holding the door open for her. Their eyes met for a moment. In that moment, she softened her eyes slightly, understanding completely. "Consider the favor granted." She told Poppy, letting her step inside before her.  
  
"Thank you, Bella." Poppy smiled.  
  
Bella returned that smile. "You're welcome."  
  
Poppy entered the office and closed the door behind her, thinking that this time, she would be armed and ready. She would not be the victim again. Not if she could help it. You're right, Aurelius. This is just the beginning.  
  
~*~*Finis*~*~ 


End file.
